Crossed with Silver
by Dizzydodo
Summary: In which Kenshin tells the story of his scars, and Kaoru learns something of palmistry.
1. Prologue

He had heard once that it was possible to read a man's hand. Not the charlatan's magic of divining the future by reading a few lines in a man's palm, but the simple act of holding another's hand and studying the patterns of scars, calluses and the tracery of lines to read the truth of a man's past.

Kenshin was not a coward by any means, but the thought that this might be so terrified him; chilled him to his very marrow.

Kaoru's eyes were fixed on his hands as he neatly sliced the fish for their supper; she seemed to be captivated by the swift efficiency of his movements- her own knife lay forgotten on the table.

He could still remember where every one of these scars came from; there was a fading line across his knuckles, remnant from an ill-fated fight in which he had managed to cut them on his opponent's teeth. Swordplay was his gift; he had decided then to leave common fisticuffs to brawlers when he could help it.

That smaller one just under the curve of his thumb brought a reluctant smile to his face, he noted from the corner of his eye that Kaoru smiled back but he was too lost in memories to respond.

Hiko had lost his temper in a truly spectacular way when he caught his too young, too foolish apprentice tossing a knife from hand to hand, twirling and throwing it high. When Hiko had appeared as though from nowhere, he had fumbled and turned his hand at just the right angle to catch the blade- though not in the way he had intended. As punishment he had spent the next few days sharpening and honing every knife in their collection… there were smaller scars from mistakes made there too.

Any other warrior could take his hand and know him for a swordsman; his palms were rough with the same callouses that marked anyone who troubled to practice their blade-work. The pattern was distinctive; rough patches at the base of his thumb and pointer fingers, he had noticed the same on Miss Kaoru's hands and Yahiko had been so proud to feel the skin there toughening after his efforts.

"Kenshin."

He flinched at Kaoru's voice, covering with a harmless smile at the last moment and laying the knife carefully aside. "Miss Kaoru."

"What's wrong? You're not yourself."

Kenshin laughed lightly, "Oh? But since this one is entirely-"

"Don't try to twist it around. What are you thinking?"

He forgot sometimes that she was no longer the thoughtless, impulsive child he had first met so long ago. She'd grown into a singularly perceptive woman; one dedicated to protecting her family. As far as she was concerned, he was family.

"It is nothing, Miss Kaoru. I wish you would not trouble yourself with it."

A blush of anger swept up her throat and across her cheeks. "Kenshin! You're so stubborn! Why can't you just accept that some of us are concerned for you? Why can't you confide in m- in us just once before you are forced to at the point of a sword? You are such an idiot!"

She stomped out of the room before he could even draw a breath to reply, and maybe that was for the best.

He stood silently for a moment, watching the play of light on the kitchen knife. Slowly he pulled the apron from his shoulders and hung it neatly from the peg beside the door.

Selfishly, he did not want to do this, but there was some truth in Kaoru's words, even if they were uttered in anger. He would give her the time to work out her frustrations in the dojo as she was wont to do, and then he would track her down and share a little of the burden that consumed his thoughts.

It wasn't fair to shift any of this weight onto her shoulders, weigh her down with secrets and half-forgotten memories… but then neither was it fair to hide so much of himself when she had made it plain that his silence weighed so heavily on her.

Not everything then. Only the little things; bits and pieces that he could bear to part with, and he would just have to pray that she was still too inexperienced to read any more into his words than he offered.

And that she hadn't mastered the art of reading his past in these hands.

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_Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine… fifty._ Kaoru flexed her hands gently, rolling her shoulders until she could hear the click and shift of bone.

Fifty downward swings and a handful of vicious thrusts hadn't been enough to clear the venom in her thoughts. Perhaps another fifty swings would do. She stepped into position, raising the bokken fluidly.

Stupid Kenshin, _swish_, and his stupid ideas of protecting them, _swish._ It had never worked before and it wouldn't work now. The least he could offer would be the chance of soothing whatever old wounds were now plaguing his thoughts, but he wouldn't permit even that.

Useless! She swung wide and the bokken flew from her grasp to clatter loudly on the polished wood of the dojo floor. She scurried to scoop it up, gripping it tightly; it might be a better idea to resign herself to a walk rather than abusing her faithful equipment this way. Or maybe a warm bath… no, that conjured too many thoughts of Kenshin and that was just the thing she most needed to escape now.

Kaoru put up the sword and stalked from the training hall, gaze fixed straight ahead so that she did not even see the rurouni until he stepped directly into her path. "Miss Kaoru, please."

Kaoru glanced up quickly, prepared to tear into him anew until she saw that peculiar shadow still lingered in his eyes, something feral prowling just beneath.

"What?" Her voice came out sharper than she had intended, but it was a far more neutral response than her first inclinations would have been.

"Can we speak?"

"I don't see anything to prevent it." No use trying to pretend she wasn't still angry at him; disguising her emotions was a talent she had yet to master.

"Alone perhaps?"

She wanted to be spiteful and say no, stalk off and avoid speaking to him for the rest of the day. Had he asked this of her even a year before she might have yielded to the temptation, but here and now there was something in his tone that kept her from uttering the cruel word.

"Fine."

She cleared her throat and tried again, hoping for a more pleasant tone, "Yes."

She might have imagined it, but she thought she could see a flash of hope in his eyes, swiftly extinguished by something approaching despair.

She had never been able to leave well enough alone; Kaoru hoped that this time she had not gone too far.


	2. Duality of Purpose

Kaoru glided into the room, glancing back curiously over her shoulder as Kenshin slid the door to. She turned to face him, but his back remained toward her, hands braced against the lintel. He turned slowly and attempted a reassuring smile; it didn't fool her for a moment, nevertheless she smiled uncertainly back.

Kenshin's face blanched and his body jerked in a way that had Kaoru skittering back, searching for a weapon that was no longer at her side.

"Tea."

Kaoru released a heavy breath, trying to relax her defensive posture though her heart was still beating at twice its normal clip.

"This one will-"

"_I_'_ll_ make the tea. Stay here. I'm serious, Kenshin. Right _here._" Part of her couldn't shake the conviction that if she left the room for even the few moments it would take to prepare a pot of tea he would disappear and such an opportunity might never come again. That was his choice, she reminded herself. If he was not ready to share whatever burdened him then he would run, and maddening as she found it, still it was not her place to force his hand.

Kenshin was already halfway out the door when she brushed past him, turning back to catch his eye as she closed the door on him pointedly. She walked a few paces from the door before taking off at a scampering run, grateful that she had changed into her hakama for practice. She skidded around the corner to the kitchen, slopping hot water over her fingers, breathing in the crisp scent of the tea leaves in a vain effort to calm her suddenly frayed nerves. It wouldn't do to show him how very eager she was.

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Kenshin waited for the echo of Kaoru's running footsteps to fade in the hall before resting his head against the fragile rice-paper. He was grateful for this brief moment alone; a chance to gather his thoughts before he laying them bare for her judgment. He should begin with something lighthearted to test the waters; the story of his ill-fated juggling game perhaps.

Would she find that insulting? Consider it a reflection of some imagined lack of trust? He needed to ease himself back into the old memories piece by piece, couldn't bear the thought of plunging directly into the darker shadows. This was as much for his sake as for hers, and he hoped she was perceptive enough to see that.

He turned his head to look at his hand, resting just to the side of his face. So many little scars and rough spots, most with a story to tell, and he remembered most of them. There were some that were a mystery even to him, but he was pretty sure that curved one just above his wrist came from a-

Enough. He could heard her hurrying toward the room even now; it was plain from the disrupted rhythm that she half-expected him to have made off before she could return. That stung, that she would expect such cowardice of him, but then it was true that he had left her before with precious little warning.

Kenshin stepped away from the door and rested on his haunches in the middle of the room, leaning back on his heels with hands splayed across his thighs. Steady breaths and slow movements, just another exercise to complete, another struggle to overcome. One that would not be determined by strength of body but by strength of will.

When the door opened and Kaoru peeped hesitantly past, he was smiling again. Collected and at ease. She didn't smile this time, but he could read the relief in every line of her body.

"I spilled some I think."

Judging from the puddle behind her, quite a lot actually, but this once he didn't rush for a rag to clean it. This was the more important task.

He held out his hands to accept the steaming pot, arranging it fastidiously before him, dabbing at the moisture with his sleeve with hardly even a wince for the heat.

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Kaoru sucked on her finger surreptitiously, watching as he poured the steaming tea precisely into the cups.

"Did you burn yourself, Miss Kaoru?"

Kaoru yanked the offending digits from her mouth, tucking them beneath her knees. "Only a little splash."

He held out a hand and without thinking she offered him the pink fingers, wincing slightly-even his body heat aggravated the burns. Kenshin must have caught the movement for he released her hand quickly and offered a scrap of cloth she could have sworn he pulled from thin air.

"Burns are prone to infection; you should cover it." A shadow crossed his face and he winced at some unpleasant memory. In time, he might share it with her.

Kaoru wrapped the cloth loosely about her fingertips, accepting the cup of tea and setting it before her. She didn't care anything for tea at this moment, only what Kenshin might say next.

"Do you think it is true, Miss Kaoru, that a man is defined by the scars he carries? That he is, in fact, the sum of his memories?"

Kaoru blinked with surprise; this sounded nothing like Kenshin, but there was something in his tone that pleaded for an answer. She hoped the truth was satisfactory.

"Memories don't have to be scars." She thought for a moment longer, "And what would anyone be without their memories? That doesn't mean there isn't more to it."

Kenshin nodded softly and held out a hand; she reached out to take it, thinking that perhaps he craved the comfort of touch, but he flinched when she took it in her own.

"When I was a child I heard an old woman say that it was possible to read a man's past in the palm of his hand."

Kaoru glanced down, fingers feathering over the lines and callouses of his palm. "I suppose that's true. A little." She pressed her palm to his thoughtlessly, "Your callouses match mine almost exactly. I think it must be from the sword-work. The differences would come from…" She could feel the tenseness in his arm and pulled back regretfully.

Kenshin was looking at her with such an expression of shock on his face that she looked around to be sure the expression was directed at her.

"The differences would come from the different weapons we wield. And their purpose." He finished softly.

He leaned forward to take his cup and sip.

"If you agree that a man is the sum of his memories-"

"And actions in the present." Kaoru cut in; a vital point, she didn't want him to think of himself as the hitokiri any longer, he had come a long way from that man and deserved what peace he had found.

"And actions," Kenshin amended. "Then it follows in order to know the measure of a man one must know something of his memories."

"Kenshin, you have told us enough." Kaoru began softly, she hadn't meant to guilt him into sharing yet more of his past. That had always been a painful experience for him and she hadn't meant to confound it.

"I have not told _you _enough, but I will remedy that now."

His change of tense did not escape her and she straightened in anticipation, uncertain of whether she should protest again or accept the confidences he offered.

Secrets were heavy things, she had learned. She had also learned that sharing them could lighten the burden.

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Kenshin drew a breath, waiting for any final objection; part of him prayed she would interrupt again while another hoped that she would accept his confessions. When she remained silent he began:

He had seen illustrations in some of the precious manuscripts Master Hiko kept of boys playing at this game. The scenes depicted were of children his age tossing the knives in just this fashion, dancing gaily with the blades suspended just above their hands or quivering in the ground just near their feet while they gaped in open-mouthed dismay.

Master Hiko had vanished over an hour ago as he was sometimes known to do; it might be hours or days before he returned, and so Kenshin played at the game he had only ever read of.

It really wasn't so very different from any one of the dozens of exercises in grace and swiftness Hiko had assigned him with his practice blade. He wondered why his master was so set against this particular exercise. To his mind it was a wonderful teacher, if he was too slow to catch the blade then it would fall and if he moved too fast then he risked grabbing the sharp blade and laying his hand open to the bone.

The danger only added to its allure. He watched the sunlight play along the edge of the blade and laughed aloud at the patterns it cast against his skin. A little faster, toss it into the air just a bit higher, watch to be sure it doesn't fall off track. Someday he would show this trick to Master Hiko, when he was sure the man would be proud rather than disapproving.

He sucked in a breath as the cutting edge passed a little too close to his sensitive flesh. He had nearly been caught there, but his reflexes were swift and keen; Kenshin was determined that he would not be so easily bested.

He grinned widely, casting the knife upwards with a neat twist… "Foolish boy! What game do you play at?"

Kenshin jerked his head aside to see his master returned early from whatever task had occupied him. The blade fell again and he was too quick to reach for it. Kenshin cried out in shock as the smooth edge cut into the meat of his thumb and the blade tumbled to the ground.

Hiko started forward angrily, pulling the knife from the ground and wiping it carelessly on his own clothes. He flashed it before Kenshin's eyes as she boy sucked at his bloodied flesh.

"Does this look like a toy to you? Something for your amusement? It is a tool, Kenshin. It should be used only for its purpose and not as some idle diversion on a sunny day."

Kenshin nodded, but Hiko could see he had hardly heard the admonishment for admiring the blade.

"This is a weapon, boy. Not a child's plaything. Dolls and tops and cards are for playing with; this has another purpose. Do you know what that is?"

Kenshin sobered slightly much to Hiko's satisfaction. "To kill."

Hiko shook his head, "This knife is for skinning, but in a way you are right. The ultimate purpose of any blade it to serve as a weapon, and weapons are meant for killing. Still, if you cannot tell the difference between a toy and a tool after so long as my apprentice then I have failed you. I think if you were to clean every last weapon in this hut you might learn a greater respect for them"

Kenshin's eyes sparkled with eagerness, not the reaction he had been expecting, but he didn't think the child would be so enthralled with his task for long.

"You will hone or sharpen every one, and put a shine on them that I can use to see my reflection in the morning-"

"Yes, master!" He was off, clumsily tripping over his own feet in his haste to be about his duties. He chuckled softly at this sign of youthful exuberance, but even then he felt an uncomfortable weight settle in the pit of his soul; he had watched the boy for a few moments before he had approached and put an end to his play. There was talent there, and grace, as well as a certain recklessness he prayed he could temper before it landed the boy in over his head.

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Kenshin watched Kaoru take in the story, eyes sparkling alternately with mirth or fear, sharing in his joy with the simple game and his shock when his master appeared to curtail it, wincing in sympathy when he described the cut. She reached out to take his hand again and he offered it reluctantly.

She studied his pale skin, turning his hand this way and that until her nails traced just the scar he had described, "Is it this one?"

"Yes." He couldn't speak, even that simple tale seemed to have drained him. He dreaded to think of what the others might do.

"It must have been deep if we can still see it now." She poked at the flesh experimentally.

"There are others from the week I spent cleaning our supply, but there are more important tales to tell."

Kaoru poured more tea into his cup and then in hers, settling back on her heels to wait for the next. She offered a reassuring nod, "Whenever you are ready."

And much to his surprise, he found he was.

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I have a major project due Tuesday, so there may not be an update until Wednesday, but I will try to keep updates regular. :)


	3. Of Men and Demons

Kenshin reached out to take the cup in his hands, blowing on the tea delicately before sipping. He knew the tale he most wanted to tell; brief flashes of memory tugged at him while he watched Kaoru carefully turning her burned skin away from the warm cup. Burns were excruciating when the tender flesh was exposed to heat so soon after being burned, he knew this from experience.

He glanced down to the burn on his wrist, debating whether to tell her the story just to have it over and done with. No. He wasn't ready for that tale just yet, wasn't sure he would ever truly be ready, but he would tell it in time.

For now his eyes slide down to the knotted seam along the knuckles of his right hand. That was a fairly harmless memory, just a bit of youthful hubris and unfortunate coincidence. He would tell this tale and then test his mettle with the next.

Kenshin spread his hands neatly on his lap to study the scar- at last he began to speak.

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Kaoru watched his eyes grow unfocused once more, abandoning himself to his memories while his low, pleasant voice began the had seen him glance at the shining scar along his wrist, the one that looked suspiciously like a burn, but then his gaze turned to the cut along his knuckles and locked there stubbornly. She wondered if he would ever tell her the memory behind that burn, wondered if she even wanted to know the secret to something that could make the bravest man she knew pale with agony.

Shaking her head to clear away the idle musings, Kaoru struggled to rid her face of its curious expression and simply listen.

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Kenshin rushed down the path from his master's hut, a skip in his step that he knew he couldn't hide and so didn't even bother to try. Eight years old today, Hiko said he had earned this small concession and Kenshin couldn't be more delighted.

Normally his age went unremarked; he had no way of knowing the day or even the season his mother had given him birth and it hardly seemed to matter. Hiko said there were some men who would never be more than foolish children whether they lived to be fifteen or a hundred, and there were some who would be a hundred by the time they reached fifteen. Kenshin was skilled enough in the reading of his master to recognize the assessing gaze that said clearly Hiko thought he would be the latter, and wasn't entirely certain that was a good thing.

When Master Hiko had announced that they would celebrate his naming day instead of his long forgotten birth, Kenshin had been delighted. No one had ever marked his age before that he could recall, and in all the time he had stayed with Hiko he had never learned his age. Kenshin didn't want to remind him of this fact lest he decide that his apprentice had no need of any special considerations on this day.

Kenshin stumbled when Hiko caught up to him, catching his shirt in a firm grip lest he slip in the dirt. "Keep your balance, center your weight over your hips when running, it will make it more difficult for your foes to trip you.

Kenshin grinned up at him, one tooth conspicuously missing. Hiko shook his head, but Kenshin could hear the fondness in his voice when he spoke. "Calm yourself. We are in no hurry, the village is not far now."

"What is it like? Are there many people?"

"No. Not many; there are children your age though." A worried look flickered across his face and Kenshin bobbed ahead of him, turning to address him again.

"Is there something wrong, master?"

"Nothing. It's only… children are unpredictable, Kenshin." Hiko seemed to remember that he was speaking to a child himself and smiled wryly at his young pupil, "Not all of them are so disciplined as you. Most of the children here have learned nothing of combat save what little they've gleaned from petty fights with other children. Don't be drawn into their silly arguments. It wouldn't be a fair fight and I'm sure a clever boy like you could think of better ways for handling trouble than resorting to street-tough logic."

Hiko had been hesitant when Kenshin had first asked if he might accompany him to this little hamlet today, but seeing the hope and loneliness in his apprentice's eyes had softened him. It wasn't good for a child to be kept always in the company of his elders, even and especially not a child as sensitive as Kenshin. It would be just another aspect of his training, teaching him to relate to children his own age.

Kenshin wasn't paying him any heed, having just caught sight of the clearing ahead and the scattering of buildings nestled there. In truth, it was hardly worthy of being called a village, little more than a scattering of huts and a small way-station where a traveler might rest for a few hours.

Nothing could have convinced him that it was anything less than the grandest little village in all of Japan. Hiko had kept him isolated on the mountaintop for so very long, he hardly remembered what it was like to have anyone other than his master to speak with or to play any games that were meant to be shared.

Kenshin pulled his top from the inner pocket of his shirt and studied it curiously, perhaps he could find someone here that had another. They could duel to see whose would spin the longest; Kenshin knew his would be the very best.

"What are you waiting for, scamp? Run, go. We don't have more than an hour before we must go back; don't waste it."

Kenshin needed no further urging, tripping over his sandals in his eagerness to be off. Hiko watched him go worriedly; he couldn't keep the child free of worldly influence forever. Better he should have the time to acclimate now while there was still someone to look out for him. What troubled him most though was the idea of Kenshin meeting the other children, seeing their lives and perhaps regretting his choice. Worse yet, children could be cruel little monsters; he didn't much care for the idea of his too- gentle apprentice being bullied for his obvious otherness.

It was too late for second thoughts, he had to let the boy go sometime.

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Kenshin raced ahead, oblivious to his mentor's turmoil as his wide eyes took in everything there was to see. Catching the puzzled stare of an older woman with graying hair pulled back from her face, Kenshin waved timidly. She was bent over a basket filled with all manner of plants, some of which he recognized from his mountain home and others foreign to his eyes. He glanced at her curiously, blushing slightly when she spoke to him.

"Whose little one are you?" Her creaky voice just barely reached him over the sound of his own excited panted.

Kenshin made his way carefully over to the lady, crouching down to bring himself face-to-face with her. "I am here with master Hiko."

The woman drew away, something like frustration sparking in her eyes. "Is that right? Have you been with him long?"

"Two summers gone." Kenshin chirped, how much was he supposed to tell her? Would Hiko mind if he stayed to talk? He wanted to see the herbs in the basket; Hiko probably knew them all by name. He taught Kenshin their uses every now and again, but perhaps this woman knew something even his wise mentor did not.

"Two summers and he has only brought you down now." Kenshin recognized anger beneath her words, but he could not divine the cause. He stood, preparing to run off, but she caught his hand gently, "Will you help me with this basket…?"

"Kenshin." He supplied.

"Kenshin." She smiled warmly and his fear evaporated. Whatever the cause of her anger, she seemed happy enough now and it was enough to tell him he was not the cause.

He rolled up his sleeves and grabbed the basket, surprised at its weight but bearing it easily. Master Hiko said his strength grew daily, but now he knew it for truth.

She reached down to take the other side of the basket and Kenshin stepped away, "I have it."

"Come then, it's not much farther." She set off along the path, walking easily by his side.

"I don't know your name."

She raised her brows and Kenshin wondered if he might have said something rude. Names were important things though, Hiko frequently reminded him of it.

"I am Mizuho."

"Mizuho." Kenshin repeated softly, it rolled trippingly off the tongue. It fit her, he decided, and nodded approvingly.

To his surprise they came to the small way-station where Hiko sat, sipping at a cup of sake while he looked out over the dirt path. He seemed surprised to see his apprentice again so soon, and a little defensive when he noted the old woman walking at his side.

"Kenshin was kind enough to help me with the basket. He is a good boy, I am left wondering why I have only just met him. He tells me you have kept him in your company nearly two summers now."

Their eyes clashed and Kenshin wilted slightly.

"You know I do not invite speculation or commentary on my affairs. This is the first time I have seen fit to bring him here."

"Why? The boy should be here with something more than one man for company. Where is his family?"

Hiko's eyes flickered, features tensing almost imperceptibly.

"Kenshin, why don't you leave the basket here? I will collect you when we must go."

Kenshin put the basket down carefully, backing out of the area; despite their terse attitudes he thought Mizuho might be a friend, Hiko's language was respectful at least and he could not imagine anyone save a friend daring to take that tone with his mentor. He was a little jealous to find that the notoriously private man might have someone other than his apprentice to confide in.

He ducked out of sight, listening for a few moments more, hearing the soft rumble of Hiko's voice and a slightly louder reply.

"You should have brought him here directly. The life you live is not one for a child."

"I am not accustomed to accounting for my actions to meddlesome old women." There was no real heat in the reply, but Kenshin could hear his frustration plainly.

"I think that is exactly the problem."

He couldn't hear Hiko's reply, but he knew if he were caught eavesdropping like this it would mean extra chores in the days to come. Kenshin hurried away to find another companion before Hiko called him back again.

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Just ahead he caught sight of a small group of other children, most of them clearly his juniors but he thought he could see one or two that were his age, maybe even a little older. Kenshin approached them cautiously, hands slipping beneath his shirt to grip his top for luck. Master Hiko said a good warrior made his own luck, not counting on any outside objects. Kenshin knew he was no kind of warrior yet, and he wasn't fully convinced that Master Hiko might not be wrong. Even thinking it felt vaguely disrespectful; Hiko was a true master, and Kenshin only his apprentice. It was not the apprentice's place to question the wisdom offered by his betters. Not yet, anyway.

The other children ceased their play as he approached, watching him warily with slitted eyes. Kenshin tried for a bright smile, hoping to put them at their ease.

"Hello." He bowed slightly, not too deep, hands held loosely at his side.

"What's the matter with your hair?" One of the younger ones spoke, pulling his fingers from his mouth. Kenshin blinked, didn't he know that was dirty? It wasn't his place to say anything.

"I don't understand." Kenshin tugged at a red lock, running it through his fingers to look for any kind of debris.

"Looks funny." Another chimed in. "Are you a demon?"

"No." Kenshin wrinkled his nose indignantly. "Demons don't exist."

"My mama says they do. She says they have hair like flame and death in their eyes."

As a group the children leaned forward to catch his eyes, studying the peculiar violet carefully.

"What's death look like?" It seemed the obvious question to ask, but the children drew away from him quickly.

"Like that. Your eyes are too bright." One of the older ones gestured to him.

"Go away." Chirped a younger.

Rallying, Kenshin pulled the top from his clothing and offered it up on an open palm. They flinched back as though he had proffered a weapon instead.

"I only want to play. I'm not any kind of demon. Master Hiko says they're just false tales to frighten sheep."

The tallest stepped forward and knocked the toy from his hand, kicking dirt over it disparagingly. He stepped forward as though to crush it beneath his feet and in that moment Kenshin moved more quickly and gracefully than his master could have ever taught.

He had only meant to push the boy away, but somehow he found that his hand had clenched into a fist and it landed with a stunning impact on the boy's soft stomach. The other child doubled up as his breath left him in a rush and Kenshin's second fist took him in the teeth, laying open his knuckles so that blood poured from the split skin.

Kenshin's eyes stung with tears as he gathered up the top, whether it was from the ache in his hands or the way the other boy recoiled from him or simply the relief of holding his most precious possession in his hands again Kenshin would never know.

The other children gazed at him with wide eyes, one of the smaller ones began to weep; it seemed to be some sort of signal, they all turned and ran from him, leaving him alone with the strange child.

Kenshin wiped his eyes on his sleeve, "I'm sorry." He whispered, offering a bruised hand to the other child. The boy scrambled to his feet and ran like the others, leaving Kenshin alone once more. He didn't want to be here, he never wanted to come back.

Kenshin turned and ran, rushing back to the place where he had left Master Hiko with his drink. He and the older woman sat together now; Master Hiko was on his second cup of sake, and the grandmother seemed to be enjoying her first. Both turned with similar expressions of alarm when Kenshin barreled in, making straight for Hiko's side.

"I'm sorry." He whimpered into his master's shirt, rubbing his face on the material to clear his face of tears again.

"Kenshin, what happened?"

"The other children… I…"

Hiko sucked in a breath when he caught sight of Kenshin's abused hand. "You fought."

"I'm sorry." He hiccuped.

Mizuho pushed back from the table, patting his hair- his awful hair- soothingly.

"I'll check on the others. I think you'd best see to him."

He heard her leave and slowly pulled away from Master Hiko. "I want to go home." He sniffed.

Hiko sighed deeply, "Give me your hand."

Warily, Kenshin offered it, not sure if Hiko would punish him or not.

Hiko tipped a little sake into the wound and new tears flooded down Kenshin's cheeks at the sting. "Never aim for your enemy's face when you use your fist. It's a hard target and you're likely to get cut up on their teeth."

Hiko dabbed at the wound with his sleeve, patting Kenshin's back awkwardly.

"Are you angry?" Kenshin whispered fearfully. He couldn't read his master's face; resignation was the closest thing he could think of to define it.

"Not angry. Disappointed. A man shouldn't fight unless he can see no other course. Did they attack you?"

"No." Kenshin mumbled shamefacedly, wiping the last few tears from his eyes.

"Then you did not have to fight. I think you are correct; we should go home."

"What about Mizuho?"

"That old biddy will figure out we've left soon enough. She knows everything, or at least thinks she does."

"Shouldn't we say good-bye?"

Hiko ruffled his hair softly, "There will be other days, Kenshin. You can speak with her next time."

There would be no next time, Kenshin knew. He didn't want to come here again, he didn't want to see the now justified fear in their eyes and he never wanted to hear that regretful tone in Hiko's voice again.

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It was a long walk back that night, somehow it had seemed so much shorter when they came down in the afternoon. Kenshin was exhausted by the time they returned and wanted nothing more than to fall into the sweet escape of sleep. He forced himself to stay awake, venturing outside to gather the herbs he would need; he knew this plant at least, and its uses.

When Hiko woke him in the morning it was with a considerable degree of surprise and no small amount of confusion. "Kenshin, what happened to your hair?"

Hiko held the dyed strands to the the light, murky and brown and clumped together. It looked rather like his apprentice had spent the night rolling in mud.

"I don't want it to be strange anymore."

Hiko snorted, tugging at the strands in his hand roughly, "What sort of nonsense is this? Go and wash it out, Kenshin. Heat the water, it will dissipate faster."

"I like it better this way."

"I don't. I think it is the most foolish thing you have ever done. Now go and wash it clean. There are chores that need doing before practice."

For the first time, Kenshin voiced a denial, and he could see the open shock painted on Hiko's face, "I won't."

Hiko cuffed him smartly and Kenshin scowled, pulling away from Hiko's fingers as his hair tangled in knots.

"Why not?" Hiko's tone was sharp and suggested he didn't much care about the reason; children could be little fools he was quickly learning. Best to find out what had spawned this idiocy and nip it in the bud.

"I'm not a demon."

Hiko snorted incredulously. "Of course not, silly boy. Demons don't-"

"The others said they do. They said demons have hair like flame and eyes with death in them."

Hiko froze, comprehension dawning at last. Uncertainly he pulled Kenshin into his lap, feeling the ripple of shock that ran through the child's body, such affection was rare indeed.

"And how would they know? Have they seen a demon before?"

"I don't know."

"If they had they would know that you aren't. The only demons that exist are men, Kenshin. Men with strength but no honor. Men with weapons and no discipline. They can have red hair or black or golden, and eyes filled with light or darkness. The only thing they have in common is their twisted, withered souls. The children were half right, they do carry death in their eyes and a smile on their face and you will know them. They make no apology for their actions when it achieves their object."

Hiko fixed him with a pointed stare and Kenshin nodded his understanding.

"If ever the day comes that you cannot bear to look into your own eyes, yet you feel no shame for your actions. Then you will be a demon, Kenshin. And dying your hair will not change it."

Kenshin pressed his face trustingly into Hiko's shirt and they lay there peaceably for a few moments until Hiko finally pulled away, all business again.

"Now, wash that muck from your hair and see to your chores."

Kenshin hopped to his feet and bolted out, eager now to wash the foulness away.

Hiko released the breath he had been holding for so long. He had the uncomfortable premonition that Kenshin would meet more than his fair share of demons in his day. He had seen enough of them for his short years already. Hiko resolved to make an offering at the shrine when next he passed by it, suspicion or not maybe it would ease his darkening thoughts.

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Kenshin drew another deep breath, slowly looking up to catch Kaoru's eyes again. He winced to see the unshed tears shining there.

"It was not so very terrible, Miss Kaoru." He dare not tell her the story of the others, not if even so much as this upset her.

He started with surprise when hand reached out to brush at his hair absentmindedly, "Oh, Kenshin."

The whispered word held enough heartbreak that Kenshin felt his throat closing tightly, not permitting any words to escape.

"Not your pretty hair." She twisted a strand around her burned finger, and froze, pulling back suddenly while her face blushed a color deep enough to match his hair.

"It was a silly thing, Miss Kaoru-"

"Not silly! That was wicked. Did you ever see them again, Kenshin? What of the old woman, did you meet her again?"

Kenshin swallowed thickly, "I did not return for many years. By then she was long since gone and the children had become men. Superstitious and frightened as ever."

"I'm sorry." Kaoru shook her head slowly.

"It was many years ago and all that needs to be said has been."

It was true, he felt just a little lighter for the telling of it. Could almost smile at the memory of the black in the water and his muddy red locks as he washed the dye away.

Kaoru folded her knees under her once again, watching him expectantly.

He was ready for the next tale, and the one after that, as many as she could bear until the burden became too much. He must be careful not to weigh her down too heavily, but even with her reddening eyes she still seemed as open and unburdened as ever...

The burns, then.


	4. Embers

Kenshin raced through the streets of the once great city of Kyoto, now reduced to blazing towers of light and piles of ashes. The smell of burned paper and seared flesh permeated the air, causing him to choke and sputter despite the cloth pulled tightly about his face.

He wanted to wipe the sting of sweat from his eyes, but that would require lowering his guard and closing his eyes for a few precious seconds, a distraction he could ill afford.

Screams and groans echoed in his ears along with the steady pounding of his footsteps; he ignored all of it as best he could, focused on reaching his destination. He needed to rendezvous with the others in his unit; the Shinsengumi were picking off stragglers and he knew his skills would be sorely needed to fight off any challengers. They had all been caught unawares tonight and many had already paid the ultimate price for their negligence.

Kenshin recoiled as a slender form bolted out ahead of him, the sheen of steel in the firelight only just enough warning of his foe's intentions. He cut him down without a second thought, feeling the warm spatter of blood on his skin. His vision wavered for a moment, the heat almost enough to bring him to his knees; deep breaths did nothing to clear his head, instead causing him to gasp and choke on the smoldering air, throat dry and hoarse.

He coughed into his sleeve, swiftly blinking the tears from his eyes before he started off again. He was no longer sure if the tears were from the strain and smoke or from the despair that seeped into the depths of his spirit. Kyoto wasn't much of a home; it was a battleground and a burden, but it was all he had, everything he had come to know lie in ruins around him. The bastards would pay.

They had never meant for this to happen, he knew. It was not directed at the citizens of the city itself. The original focus of this wanton destruction was to have been the Ishin Shishi; if there had been even one level head among the passionate Shinsengumi perhaps the city might have been spared, but asking a Shinsengumi to think beyond the point of their blade was rather like asking a stone for water- pointless. Foolish, even.

Kenshin skidded around a corner, caught sight of a beleaguered comrade and rushed to his aid; his sword slid neatly through the menacing samurai, parting flesh and muscle as though it were no more than butter. He wrenched the sword free and nodded once to the survivor, off again when the man opened his mouth to thank him. This was his duty, he didn't require thanks.

Ahead he caught sight of a gathering, civilians all, laboring to put out the flames; he could have told them it would never work, dry wood and rice paper made a wonderful feast for the all-consuming flames. As he neared, the inhuman screams finally began to resolve into words… and hearing them he desperately wished they hadn't.

"Please, not my baby! Please!"

He could see her ahead, face smeared with soot and white ashes sprinkled in her tangled hair; a taller man supported her, holding her to him even as she scratched and bit and kicked, trying to get to the wreckage of what must once have been their home. Men and women scurried about, beating at small pockets of flame with clothes soaked in precious water, trying to pry away the burning refuge to find a way inside.

Kenshin paused for the briefest moment, arrested by the tableau. He could do nothing here, he needed to move on, but the sheer agony in every gesture held him. These were the ones he was truly supposed to be protecting, these weak and vulnerable ones; it was all for them and part of him wanted to sheathe his blade and join in their effort. Looking at the building, he knew the child must already be dead; it was impossible for anyone to survive-

And then he heard it, a thin wail just rising above the crackle of the flames and the despairing cries of the others. The mother must have heard it too, she redoubled her efforts and the man holding her called for help, ignoring the nails clenching into his skin until blood flowed.

That decided it; he could not pass by, not even for the sake of his brethren. Before the thought had consciously formed he had already sheathed his blade and was halfway across the square. The water and cloth would do no good, the object now was speed and if anyone could manage this it would be him.

No one objected when he pushed one of the other men aside and began scrabbling at the burning refuse, moving quickly to avoid the singing flames. It was too hot this close and he began to feel lightheaded after only a moment. No time. He snarled as the flames leapt at him, licking his fingers and sending a bolt of muffled pain through him. Later he would feel it, for now his mind was too focused on the task at hand.

He could still hear the strangled sobs of the child within; it was a goad that kept him moving even as his knees seemed determined to buckle and his legs to fold.

"You! Take the other end!" The man he had fixed with his glance hurried over to grab the other end of the wood, wincing as splinters and embers abraded his skin. He needed no direction, they both heaved until at last the beam fell apart and they could toss it aside. The whole cursed building was going to come down and he was probably going to be trapped in it. For a split second he hesitated before pushing inside.

Over the years Kenshin would often catch himself thinking on that one moment of indecision, wondering if all might have gone differently had he moved faster. He would assure himself that between the blinding smoke and the searing pain in his hands it had been only natural to pause; he would reason that in such a short space of time nothing would have changed. Somehow his assurances always fell short; if time washed away all else and his vow someday cleansed all his sins still he would carry that burden to his grave.

It was cramped enough that Kenshin was forced to go to his knees, sword dragging along the ground behind him, for once an unwelcome interference. He pushed through the heat anyway, ignoring the way the burns on his wrist had begun to ooze. They were numb now, and though he knew that was by no means a positive development he was grateful for the release from the distracting pain.

The small body was just ahead, still twitching, chest stuttering in short, rapid breaths. Head spinning, Kenshin pushed away the refuse that had pinned him, gritting his teeth at the child's renewed screams. They were small and thready, not enough to hurt his ear even as he cradled the child to his shoulder, but they afflicted him all the worse for their weakness. The babe writhed against him, scorched skin damaged further by rough cloth and grasping hands. There was no time to adjust his grip, they had to be gone.

Now Kenshin held precious few memories of the minutes that followed, only impressions. He remembered the feel of the boy's ribs beneath his abused hands, struggling to draw breath in the smothering heat. He remembered the feel of strange hands tugging at him, patting his back, grabbing for his arms to pull him from harm's way. The feel of dirt and splinters beneath his knees when he finally knelt, fighting to draw another breath, the mother's frantic hands freeing the child from his grip and her despairing sobs when she realized it was already too late.

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After that it was all blackness until he woke again on a tatami mat, draped in a blanket with his hands resting at his sides.

Kenshin took a few precious minutes to wake, surprised to find that somehow he had survived. And the boy? Did he live? Kenshin turned his head to survey the room, just able to make out the shadow of another man with his blurry sight.

"Kosugi." He meant to speak, but it came out as more of a hoarse whisper.

"Battousai."

It was a few seconds more before he could place the name. He nodded feebly, trying to clench his hands only to find they were bound tightly with linen.

"You were badly burned. Touch and go for a few hours there; the wounds were infected. You've been raving with fever for almost two days now."

"The boy." Kenshin croaked.

Kosugi's face hardened, "Dead. Along with many of our allies. They were counting on you for assistance. But I suppose the child was more important." Kenshin could hear the bitterness in his tone; he never would have interfered in something that didn't involve his battles.

"His pa-"

"The mother hanged herself yesterday. Can't find the father, I guess he's dead too. Didn't do much good, your heroism."

Kosugi would never have dared to speak to him in this manner had he been well, but he wasn't angry. He deserved every last word.

His head felt too heavy to support him and he fell back onto the futon, eyes drifting closed once more, the throbbing pain in his hands just returning and a terrible weight settling on his chest.

"Yes, you sleep. The rest of us will pick up the pieces." He heard the sliding screen open and shut and only when he was sure he was alone did he begin to sob; a hollow, dry sound. All his tears were gone, consumed in the flames of the revolution.

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Kenshin paused to draw a breath, throat tight and eyes stinging with the tears he couldn't shed then and wouldn't shed now. Kaoru's warm weight nearly knocked him over as she fell into his arms, her hands twining around his neck to hold him close. He allowed himself to accept the comfort this once, to let go of the guilt for a few precious seconds and just feel something alive and dear resting in his arms, someone that he could still protect no matter his past sins.

So many lives lost for his hesitation, innocent and blooded alike. So many others left to atone for his sins and weakness while he yet lived in peace, undeserving…

"It wasn't your fault, Kenshin. It wasn't." He could hear in her voice that she was shedding all the tears he dare not. He held her close and let her weep for both of them, drawing some comfort from the broken sounds. Her tears soaked into his shirt and onto his skin and still he stayed there, perfectly quiet, not sure if he regretted sharing this with her or not. He did not want to pain her, but a weight had been lifted from him at the words. To hear it once from another that it was not his doing, that would be enough to spare him the guilt for awhile at least.

He would still hear those helpless screams in his nightmares, that could not be avoided, but perhaps in his dreams at least he could forgive himself for not being quite fast enough.

Kaoru's hands on his face brought him back to the present, a soft kiss on either one of his cheeks, she held his damaged hands, pressing soft kisses to the burns still scattered on his hands. It was his undoing.

Kenshin finally wept.

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Sorry, final exam season. Updates might be a little delayed, but I will try to get a little more up before the tougher ones come


	5. Maneki Neko

Kaoru continued to brush her palm over Kenshin's back though it was obvious that he had slipped into sleep sometime during his weeping. Even his tears had been silent; an occasional muffled gasp for breath and nothing more than his shaking shoulders and a few escaped tears to show his grief. How he had borne it this long she would never know, but she was glad he had chosen to share the burden; two would carry this weight far better than one.

It was selfish she knew, but she was also grateful for the trust he had shown, resting in her arms like this, shoulders rising in deep and even breaths. She had asked much of him since he had joined her at the dojo, and he had not failed her once; had never complained or hesitated when work needed to be done. It aggravated her sometimes, how very cheerful he could be in his duty, but now she hoped for a return to that old brightness, feared that since light had been shed on these dark memories she might not see it again. Or perhaps he would be the better for this and those smiles would be wholly genuine and without bitterness.

She wanted that for him. And for her.

Save for the soothing motions of her hand, Kaoru hardly dared move lest he wake; Kenshin was a light sleeper and she worried that even the smallest sound might wake him from the much needed nap. She fought to hold back the ticklish sensation plaguing her, prayed she wouldn't sneeze, but the dust was wreaking havoc on her nose and she could feel her eyes begin to water. Not now, damn it. Not when he was finally resting so peacefully.

Carefully she lifted her free hand to pinch her nose roughly and drew shallow breaths through her mouth all to no avail. She turned aside quickly when her body defeated her, unable to stifle the urge. She sneezed, body jerking convulsively; Kenshin was halfway across the room in a matter of seconds, dragging her with him, his other hand scrabbling for his absent sakabatou. Spotting no immediate threat, he turned back to her, eyes still red with tears, but face dry.

Kaoru couldn't help her sheepish, slightly watery smile. Comprehension dawned and Kenshin chuckled softly, Kaoru snickered at the absurdity of it and before long they were both wiping away tears once more of an entirely different kind. It was more mirth than the circumstances strictly merited, but both pretended they didn't hear the hysterical edge to the other's laughter, delighting in the shared amusement instead.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't-"

Kenshin waved her apology away, glancing at the sunlight on the floor. "It is nearly evening, better to be awake when Sano arrives."

Kaoru sobered, "You think he will come?"

Kenshin shrugged and Kaoru noted with only the smallest pang of envy that even that motion was graceful. "If he has not found his supper. And he will not."

They smiled in perfect understanding, nothing forced or desperate in the gesture. Kaoru shook her head slowly, marveling at his resilience.

Kenshin cleared his throat, moving back to settle in his old place, inspecting the tea pot and noting its lack of warmth. He made as though to replenish it but Kaoru shook her head. "No need. I think we have had our share today." Kenshin nodded, fiddling with his cup aimlessly.

"We have time for one last, I think. If you would like." His formality had slipped away, but he looked a little… shy? Or cautious? The former was not a quality she typically associated with Kenshin, the latter was understandable; she didn't think she could hear another tale as heartbreaking as the last, not tonight, not so soon.

Kenshin caught her troubled look and shook his head, raising a placating hand as she sank down before him once more, a little closer than was strictly proper, but he gave no indication he had noticed.

"Not another… like that. Not tonight." He echoed her sentiments perfectly, a light blush dusting his cheekbones; definitely shy, now she was intrigued. "There will be time for those later." He hesitated, slanting a look at her from beneath his lashes, "Should you care to hear them."

Kaoru swallowed softly, but nodded without hesitation. She would gladly share this with him; the secret of every last scar.

"One last then." His voice sounded smothered, whether in amusement or embarrassment or simply fatigue she could not be sure, but she curled her legs beneath her and leaned forward to catch his softened voice.

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* * *

Two months. Nearly two months spent languishing in the Izaya, leaving the forsaken inn only by night and only to attend his duties. Kenshin was sure he was steadily losing himself to a gentle madness. Only this morning he had caught himself plucking at the threads of his sleeve, meticulously pulling out every one to cast it aside. His sword had been sharpened, honed and polished more times than it really ought this past week, whether the work was necessary or not and his help was not welcome in any other part of the inn, where the staff flinched away if he so much as came into view.

Kenshin tilted his head back against the wall and turned his head to watch the dust motes swirling in the shaft of sunlight from the window. He needed to be outside in that sunlight right now. He couldn't take even so much as another hour of lying here pitying himself. It was time to be gone.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind then he was out the door and hurrying down the stairs; curious that he did not even encounter a worker about their chores, but that was all to the better.

After so long inside with only the pale sunlight that streamed through his window the world suddenly seemed too bright; for a moment he was blinded and withdrew to the shadows of an alley until the spots had cleared from his vision. The noise was nearly deafening, men and women hocking their wares, shouting greetings and friendly insults to each other across the way. Everything was magnified and made more intense by his deprivation. Looking at this crowd he would never have guessed that not long ago they had all been struggling to ensure their homes were not consumed in the flames that had blanketed Kyoto.

Kenshin almost turned back inside at that thought, imagining the fires taking the city once more and he unable to help even the smallest and most inconsequential among them. He knew full well he could not afford to, forcing himself to come even this far was essential to recovery; it was a deep wound he bore, and the damage done to his body was not the half of it.

Slowly he emerged from the alley, keeping close enough to the walls of the ramshackle buildings that his fingertips could touch the thin wood did he reach out the tiniest bit. No one seemed to take note of him, but that was exactly what he wanted for now. At times he caught himself scanning the faces of little urchins running by on some errand or another; hollow cheeks, sunken eyes and desperate expressions. How many even cared for the ideals of this revolution? How many went hungry because of it? Useless to wonder, it simply was and every advancement demanded sacrifice.

Kenshin paused at one of the smaller stalls, accepting a small bowl of rice; it was not what his coin could have bought even a month ago, but many could not afford even this now. He ignored the attendant's gaping; it was his own fault for forgetting to cover his hair. That raised thoughts of Hiko, and he ate faster, determined now to put as much space between he and this man as possible.

Across the main street and down side-streets, cutting over bridges and stopping only occasionally to speak with someone, getting a sense of the city's undercurrents once more. The people were not content, few felt that this was their war. Someday they would see otherwise, he was certain.

It was sometime before Kenshin realized that he was well and truly lost without even the smallest inkling of which way he had come. Too much time spent in his thoughts and not enough observing his surroundings; he should be grateful that his distraction would not cost him more than an hour's annoyance rather than his life.

Selecting a path, he took it, basking now in the quiet; only the soft echo of his footsteps and the muted sound of birdsong followed him. Kenshin glanced up, shading his eyes; assuming that it was an hour after noon, and he was certain it was, then he must be heading south, meaning the Izaya should be somewhere to his left and maybe another hour or so away. There was little cause to hurry, no one had need of him just yet; not for a few hours at the earliest.

Kenshin slipped through down the trails quietly even here, stretching muscles too long unused; he could feel something like a smile tugging at his lips every now and again. It was well worth this little distraction to relax that much again. He began to move faster without conscious will, feet thudding solidly against stone and dirt, the wind cooling him after the heat of the day. He ran faster still, careening around corners with abandon until finally he emerged onto a busier thoroughfare, slowing down and gathering his composure once more.

He walked now with all his old confidence, weeks of sorrow cast aside for the moment, eyes taking in the scene rather than merely seeing. He was so caught up in the at once familiar yet new sounds that he almost missed the child on the wall.

The child was one of a thousand; same dirty, tousled hair, same dusty face and painfully thin body. The difference lay entirely in his smile; the beaming faces he made at something just concealed from view, tucked neatly in the folds of a mended shirt.

Intrigued despite himself, Kenshin moved closer; the laughter and cat-calls on the street were false merriment, a fierce determination to show a brave face in a dark time. That smile was perfectly genuine and there was nothing forced in his laughter. What could possibly be so wondrous it could take anyone away from _this_?

Kenshin hesitated for a moment, near enough that the boy could see him if he but glanced up, far enough away that he was not a threat. Kenshin knew he looked awful, pale and haggard and that damned sword still hanging at his waist; even the bravest child would know to be wary.

The boy's shirt moved and Kenshin started, unintentionally drawing the child's attention. "Something you need?"

There wasn't anything particularly challenging in the tone, for all intents and purposes it seemed an honest question. Honest questions deserved honest answers.

"What do you have there?" It was an unpleasant surprise to hear himself speaking after so long, his voice was dry and hoarse with disuse.

The smile turned into a pleased grin as the child ever so carefully lifted a cat from the folds of his shirt, presenting it proudly as though it were the greatest treasure in all the world. To him, it likely was; there were any number of feral animals roaming the streets of Kyoto these days, very few would be so tolerant as to suffer a child's ungentle if well-meaning hands and if you could hardly afford to feed your family the beasts were the first to go hungry.

Kenshin's mouth curved into a smile, crooked and unpracticed after months of disuse, but no less real for that. "Does it have a name?" Cautiously he moved closer, watching to make sure his approach unnerved neither child nor animal.

"Cat."

Kenshin's smile widened, evening out and growing more relaxed. "A fitting name, indeed."

The child laughed at his gentle teasing and Kenshin too relaxed, coming to stop at the wall beside them.

"Coming up?" The child chirped, neding no further invitation Kenshin pushed himself up, perching precariously on the rough-hewn stone. He glanced over as child and cat made room for him and nearly doubled up at the bolt of pain that coursed through him. It was a moment before he realized that the pain had not been physical; it was hard, seeing this child now after the Fire.

There had been blazed springing up all around the city that night, some that continued to burn long into the next day, but for him there would only ever be one Fire. He winced, self-consciously tucking his hands in the folds of his shirt. The sunlight struck his fading burns a little too harshly at times, causing them to sting anew; privately Kenshin wondered how long it would be before he could go even a day without thinking of it.

"Are you sick?" The boy was frowning at him, absently stroking the cat's ruffled fur; the sound of a faint, rumbling purr reached his ears.

Kenshin shook his head mutely, still not sure he had it in him to speak just yet.

"A lot of them are." He nodded out to the people passing on the street and Kenshin hummed noncommittally.

"You have a name?" Amazing how fast they could jump from one topic to another, mercurial moods ready to shift at a moment's notice. Had he been this lackadaisical? A certain incident involving stealing a nip of Hiko's sake crossed his mind. Yes, it had to be a common trait children shared.

"Of course." Kenshin snorted at the child's disappointed glare, "Do you?"

"Doesn't everyone?" There was a little bit of sharpness beneath the words, but his impatience was merited. Kenshin had no desire to give his name, and he would just as soon not know this boy's either. It would be just another name for another face that might not last the war. One more thing to concern him when there were already so many.

He jumped at the feel of sun-warmed fur pressing into his fingers, only just visible under the cloth of his shirt. Gently he shifted his fingers, tickling an insistent chin; "Is it yours?"

The boy tugged its ear teasingly, allowed it to bat at his hand with little paws. "I guess. No one else wants her."

Well enough. A boy could do worse than to have this tiny, fearsome beast for his companion. Lucky to have a friend at all.

Kenshin could dimly hear a rhythmic tapping sound from somewhere in the distance; too far away to be any threat to them, but something worth monitoring. Shaking the thought away he turned back to the boy. "Are you sure your parents will feel the same way?"

Curious, he had spoken more to this stranger these past minutes than he had his allies in weeks; little wonder, the company was far more agreeable. He raised an eyebrow at the darkly mutinous expression that flickered across the child's face.

"Yes." Spoken in tones of absolute conviction. Kenshin devoutly hoped his stubbornness would pay off.

Glancing up, he could see a high cloud of dust sweeping down the street and shouts began to reach his ears, the sound of goods quickly shifted to avoid destruction. Kenshin's eyes widened slightly, horses? Who could afford to keep horses now if not…? It had to be a messenger, with guards no less; that would mean there was work to be done tonight.

The boy turned to follow his gaze, one hand gripping Kenshin's shoulder for balance as he slowly stood to see a little further. Kenshin clung to that little hand perhaps a little tighter than necessary, his other holding the cat lest it panic and bolt into danger.

There was no time to ask the boy what he saw before horse and rider were there, nimbly skirting darting pedestrians and weaving pat obstacles, The horse's withers were soaked in sweat, and Kenshin could hear its labored breathing for a moment as it passed by, something urgent then or the fool wouldn't risk his mount this way. He cried out in surprise as something dug into his unprotected palm, shredding skin easily; unthinking, he squeezed and an indignant yowl made him jump, startling the boy that clung to him.

Swiftly Kenshin twisted off the wall, pulling the falling child into his arms, holding him close until those fearful gasps finally ceased. Those tiny claws were sunk even deeper in his flesh now, and Kenshin was sure he would have a mark or two to show for it in the coming days, but for now he was simply thankful they were not hurt.

Gradually the boy pulled away, still staring down the street incredulously down the street. He mumbled something and Kenshin shook his head, "What did-"

"Hibiki." The boy muttered. "'S my name."

Carefully Kenshin slipped the little claws from his skin, wincing at the sudden sting and dull throbbing. This was far preferable to many of his injuries, but he wasn't sure he ever wanted to explain these marks. The humiliation of it would probably prove the death of him. "Hibiki."

The boy perked up, grinning widely. "Take your friend and go home. Quickly."

The boy's smile faded, but Kenshin did not see. His mind was already several hours away, seeing the time when he would meet the messenger again.

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Kaoru stood slowly, stretching her tingling legs and testing to be sure they would bear her weight. Kenshin still looked as though he were years away, but she was relieved to see a small smile tugging at his lips. She tilted her head curiously, voice soft but edged with unwilling amusement. "What happened to them?"

Kenshin shut his eyes, shook his head. "I don't know." His voice was ragged, but she preferred even this resignation to the inconsolable misery from before.

He stood with her, offering an arm to support her while she struggled with her still numb legs. She didn't dare break the silence now; it was clear Kenshin was not quite ready to return to her yet and this was not a time to press.

She took the offered arm gratefully, following him through the doorway; though he wasn't more than a few inches taller it still took two of her steps to equal his one. She was just tired; that had to be it.

"You will be wanting a bath, miss Kaoru." Ah. The inevitable return to formality. She would have to shock it out of him later, they had come too far today to revert to this distance.

"Will you see to cooking?" She couldn't quite stop the blush that spread up her neck and across her cheeks; one of these days she would swallow her pride and ask him to teach her some of his tricks. That day was not today though.

Kenshin hesitated, "Tae must be-"

She knew a hint when she heard one, somehow she didn't think Tae would be too pleased to see Sano darkening the doorstep of her respectable establishment so soon but…"Akabeko it is."

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Sorry for the delay, between not having my marks back and a very unstable internet connection it took a little work to get this chapter written.

Marks back and internet fixed, updates should now return to normal. :)


	6. Flawed Perfection

The evening passed in a blur of laughter and goodwill; a jumble of half-remembered images all crowding into his mind's eye whenever Kenshin tried to recall the specifics of supper. It was possible that he had taken a bit much to drink, but Sano had brought sake and it would have been rude to refuse. For once, the drink had not seemed bitter and clouded, and if he were honest with himself Kenshin could admit that he had been a little too taken with the pink flush spreading across Kaoru's cheeks and the light in her eyes when she had caught his gaze to notice how much he had imbibed.

Even Yahiko's teasing jeers had not been enough to provoke Kaoru's infamous temper, she had laughed a little too loudly at some, gestures growing increasingly clumsy and expansive as the evening wore on. It was not the hysteria he had feared after some of the tales he had related this afternoon, but a genuine expression of joy in the company of friends. No. "Friends" was too pale a word, Kenshin reflected; after all they had shared these past years they were as good as family. And at last he had become a part of it.

Someday perhaps he would share his stories with another, a child with Kaoru's innocent eyes and his bright hair- determinedly he nipped that thought in the bud, recognizing it as a fancy brought on by drink.

"Kenshin." He turned to glance back and Kaoru jogged to catch up to him, leaning into his side until he relented and put an arm around her.

"Tell a story?" She murmured, and it sent a warm tingle of contentment through him. Just now though he didn't want to dwell in the past; the present was entirely too enjoyable.

"Perhaps tomorrow." He had expected her to pout, but felt her shift as she nodded understanding.

"Does Sano know anything of this? Megumi?" An unmistakable edge of jealousy there, quickly smothered.

Kenshin smiled softly, "No, Kaoru." He had meant to say more, but something about speaking her name here in the darkness of twilight with that unintentional warmth just seemed… sacred, somehow. It needed no further qualifications.

Kaoru had caught it too, he could feel her tense briefly with shock, then a quiet laugh broke the silence.

"You should tell them. Sano and Megumi, I mean." Her voice was considerably more subdued than a moment ago, hardly more than a breath on the breeze.

"I may."

She nodded again, glancing down at their feet now to match her pace to his. He couldn't resist watching her while her eyes were turned away. It was the drink, and the darkness and this new understanding they shared, but suddenly he wanted very much to turn her face back to his, tilt her chin up the slightest bit and-

"Hoi! Were you two just gonna leave me with that drunken lout? You're responsible for me, you know!"

Saved. By Yahiko. For once, Kenshin wished he had stayed behind. More so when he saw the sly grin spread across the boy's face.

"What are you talking about?"

"None of your business, Yahiko." Kaoru snapped, the whimsy of a moment ago evaporating.

Kenshin sighed deeply, a little annoyed and unwillingly amused all at once. It was not an uncommon state of affairs these days, and he was grateful for that too.

"You sure? You look a little cozy to me."

Kaoru stuck her tongue out tauntingly, in no hurry to pull away. Kenshin glared sharply at Yahiko over her head and Yahiko smiled back disarmingly, "All right. I know when I'm not wanted." The laugh that accompanied that statement was entirely too smug for Kenshin's liking, as Yahiko turned to go he spun and snagged the back of his shirt.

"It's too dark out, and we're responsible for you. Time to head home." Kenshin smirked at his dumbfounded expression.

"I'm gonna head back to Sano."

Kaoru joined in, grinning wickedly. "That 'drunken lout'? No. You're better off here."

Desperately Yahiko tried to twist away, but Kenshin caught him up and slung him over his shoulder casually. Kaoru tipped him a wink and Kenshin smiled fondly, adjusting the boy's weight.

"Fine. Can we stop ambling and just get home at least? Geez."

Kenshin couldn't quite stifle his laughter, laughed harder as Yahiko complained of being jostled and Kaoru began to chuckle. It was a strange night, but he recognized too that this would be a new story for another night, one that wouldn't leave a scar to remind him of it and didn't need to.

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Kenshin was up with the dawn despite the slightly fuzzy feeling of his head. His mouth was parched and he felt a little heavier on his feet than usual; nevertheless something of the glow from the previous night stayed with him. His smile was genuine as he drew water from the well to wet his throat and again for breakfast.

Kaoru was already up and about when he ventured back inside, eyes red-rimmed with fatigue and face a trifle pale. She greeted him with a whispered "Good morning," checking behind her to be sure Yahiko hadn't risen yet. Kenshin could have told her there was nothing to fear; when he had passed his room Yahiko had still been sleeping like the dead, limbs sprawled every which way.

She followed him carefully into the next room, falling into a routine that had become as natural to them as breathing, preparing breakfast with each assigned their own particular task. Kenshin dodged neatly when Kaoru spun a little too quickly, sprinkling water droplets on the floor; she grimaced apologetically and Kenshin waved it away without thought, a little water couldn't hurt anything and he was still accustoming himself to the lack of tension between them.

He caught her eye every now and again as they prepared breakfast, saw the light blush that spread across her features when he smiled. That was new, and oddly reassuring. On impulse, he nudged her gently out of the way, taking the knife that she had been using to slice daikon from her hands. She had already seen that he had his fair share of scars, unsteady as her hands were today she might earn a few of her own if she was not careful.

For a moment she looked ready to protest, a flash of temper sparking in her eyes; Kenshin braced himself for the onslaught, but it never came. Shaking her head and muttering what were doubtless vile imprecations against his character she stepped away, looking for another way she could assist.

"You promised another story today. What better time than now?"

Excitement not unmixed with hesitancy. Most of his tales had not been happy ones, but Kaoru seemed glad for the sharing.

Kenshin glanced down at his hands, watched the scars stretch over his skin as he worked, felt the shift of muscle in his fingertips. There were still a few stories he could tell, and not all of them cruel. He considered for a moment, choosing his words carefully lest he give insult.

"Miss Kaoru." He caught the flicker of disappointment in her face and immediately regretted his choice of words. His tongue could hardly keep pace with his thoughts this morning and fell willingly back into old habits.

Drawing a breath he began again, conscious of his suddenly rapid heartbeat.

"For years I wandered. Stopping no more than a few days in each place, doing whatever I could to ease suffering. No matter how much I accomplished there was always more to be found. I began to despair of ever finding its end."

Kaoru had stopped moving, sensing the change in his thoughts perhaps. Realizing that this story would be different from those that came before.

"It is always concentrated in the greater cities; too many people crowd too close and petty feuds begin to brew. It was the same here."

Kaoru frowned, perhaps now recognizing where he intended this tale to end.

"The difference being, I found someone worth protecting."

Kenshin cleared his throat and Kaoru shifted subtly.

"And then others came, and an impromptu family was formed. Each protecting the other. We all bear scars from some encounters."

His shoulder ached from the memory of Shishio's teeth, but he determinedly pushed the phantom pain away.

"You know those stories, Kaoru; a few of them are yours." He laid the knife down carefully. "As for the others; there will be many more days to tell them, I hope."

He could hear Kaoru swallow thickly behind him. "You're staying for good then?"

"I gave my word once."

"I wasn't sure." A hint of willfulness crept over her face and Kenshin watched her cautiously from beneath his bangs, unsure what this portended.

"Promise me you will tell me _all _the stories, Kenshin. In time."

"In time. I promise." He laughed lightly, was surprised to find it was genuine. "Though they may take years in the telling."

Kaoru sniffed with satisfaction, "All to the better. I know you won't run out on me… on us soon."

"_Never_." He could see Kaoru's surprise at the vehemence of his tone, but so help him he had nearly lost her one too many times. The thought of surrendering her willingly was repugnant at best. Fundamentally Wrong.

If she had ever thought otherwise… that was a failing on his part. One he would have to correct.

Kenshin stepped forward before he could think better of it, hand reaching out to trace along her stubborn jaw. Kaoru tilted her face up to his, locking eyes with him. There was an unspoken challenge there, an unacknowledged fear and a sliver of hope. Carefully he dipped down to press his lips to hers, giving her time to pull away and reconsider, hands hovering just over her form.

Kaoru did not know the meaning of retreat, and her mind had been made up for some time now. She stepped into him, hands rising to grasp his own, threading through his fingers and leaning into his warmth without hesitation.

And it wasn't perfect. The water boiled over in the kettle, hissing as it struck open flame; the fish began to char until the scent of it assaulted their noses, while they were both so giddy with fatigue and relief that they trembled with it, leaning into each other for balance's sake.

It certainly wasn't perfect, but it was perfectly them.

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Kaoru bolted out of the dojo, slipping into her zori as fast as she was able and zipping around the corner at breakneck speed. "Kenshin! Kenshin!" She sounded a little frantic to her own ears, but it wasn't everyday she misplaced her only child. Usually he crawled worshipfully behind her and it was all she could do not to trip over him every time she turned around.

Only today when she had turned around he had been conspicuously absent.

Kenshin stepped out from behind a pillar, movements sharp and eyes darting in every direction, seeking whatever had so upset her. Kaoru was already calming down, having spotted the object of her abject panic clinging to her husband's shirt, wide-eyed and startled.

"You found him. He's here."

"Who?" Kenshin's voice turned hoarse, eyes narrowing dangerously. That saddened her, that even after all these years he still expected another foe at any moment. She prayed that too would heal, as had so many of his other pains.

"Kenji." The tension visibly drained from his body, one hand clasping his son's firmly where it tangled in the folds of his shirt. "I turned around and he was gone." Kaoru glared in mock anger, "But I see he is safe and making up to you."

Kenshin grinned, reaching out an inviting hand. "He is fine; in fact, I was going to tell a story while we waited for you."

"Story!" Kenji chirped delightedly; unsurprisingly it had been one of his first words, right behind "mama", and "sano" and sometime before "daddy". Something Sano had never stopped teasing him over. Kenshin bore it with his usual equanimity, and a little help from his singularly vengeful wife. Kaoru still had a trick or two up her sleeve, and marriage hadn't made her any more reluctant to use them.

She reached out to take his hand, a familiar thrill coursing through her at the feel his calloused palms against her own. They each smiled with understanding, Kaoru heeding Kenshin's gentle tugs as he started for the shade of the walk.

For his part, Kenshin was already lost in thought, absentmindedly allowing Kenji to trace the faded patterns that ran across his hands and up his wrists to disappear up his sleeves. It was difficult sometimes, to judge what stories he should tell and which he should hold back for another time, especially now that his son hung on his every word. Kaoru said it was nothing more than a love for his father's voice, but Kenji was clever, young as he was, and Kenshin was never quite sure how much he might understand.

He glanced down, seeing Kenji's fixation on some of the more visible criss-crosses.

He took a moment, only a moment and only in the silence of his own thoughts to pray that Kenji would never understand the significance of those marks or these stories. Prayed that his son would never bear any of his own.

Kenshin had the feeling that thought was in vain, but he dared to hoped nonetheless. And if all else failed… if all else failed Kenshin hoped he would find someone willing to share the burden.

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Small translation note: 'zori' are the Japanese sandals most characters are depicted as wearing.

Many thanks to all those who read and/or reviewed. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)


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